


His Beta

by KiribakuBabe



Series: His Alpha, Beta, Omega [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt Derek, Hurt No Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent-Child Relationship, Pining, Post Mpreg, Stiles Stilinski Being an Idiot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiribakuBabe/pseuds/KiribakuBabe
Summary: Right now he just wanted nothing more to get drunk and crash for a week straight.He sighed before curling back up on the shitty couch in the shitty house and tried his hardest to fall into what would no doubt be an even shittier sleep.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Liam Dunbar/Scott McCall, Peter Hale/Original Female Character(s)
Series: His Alpha, Beta, Omega [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/350129
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	His Beta

**Author's Note:**

> Well. Here we are. Years after the first one got published. The sequel is finally getting worked on. And is actually going to get finished.
> 
> If you haven’t read the first story you should read that one first or you may be very confused about what is going on. 
> 
> Anyways. Enjoy my lovelies.

“They say they’ll put him under after everyone is gone. After the curfew is in place.” John said softly to Derek who was holding a sleeping Lydia against his chest.

“Okay.” He answered numbly.

John just nodded and slowly turned to leave, but Derek called out to him before he left earshot.

“John! Hey, do you think you and Melissa could… take Lydia home tonight?” He asked, not meeting the sheriff’s eyes.

“Oh, sure. We’d be happy to actually, we could both use some time.” John said, sympathy and pain mixed in his old yet wise eyes.

Derek smiled, although it was a mask, and kissed Lydia on the head. Her soft, red, growing curls tickled at his nose before he handed her off. She sniffled like she was going to wake, then nuzzled into John’s chest.

“Well, I don’t know when you’ll get in tonight Derek, but…just be careful okay?”

Derek looked up, then back at the ground. He couldn’t find it in himself to answer, especially a question like that.

“I’ll try, John.” Is what he said instead.

When they turned to leave Derek stayed. He stayed and watched over Stiles, even in death. He watched and cried silently as the numbness filled him till he didn’t understand what he was even crying about. He walked up to the casket after a while, tear tracks dried on his face and in his beard.

“I’m so sorry, Stiles. If you’d never met me… If I’d never been born, if my family had all burned in that fire you’d never died. It’s my fault. God,” Derek cursed, feeling his eyes brim with more tears.

“I’m so tired. God, Stiles I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” Derek growled out, his face contorting for the hundredth time as he gripped the side of the casket, his claws cutting into the wood. His shoulders shook as he stared down at the face of his mate, his soulmate who now laid broken and bruised in a box to be buried six feet under. His heart tore itself apart over how even when gone, Stiles was still so beautiful. Still Stiles Stilinski. Still beautiful.

After a while, when he’d started to calm down again and nothing but a black hole sat in his chest, he found himself standing up and looking down at the man he’d wanted to marry.

“If I had never let myself love you, you would be alive. I’m sorry I took your life away from you Stiles.” Derek whispered to the quiet of the night before he turned to leave. 

He got to his car and looked back at the freshly dug grave one last time.

“I love you.”

Then he climbed in and left.

Later, the funeral home employees came to lower Stiles into the ground and found that the casket was already closed.

“Well at least someone made our job a little easier, ey?” One man said with a little chuckle.

“Come on, Gary. The kid just died and you’re worried about doing more work? He was the sheriff’s kid too.” The other one scolded quietly.

“Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood because it was the sheriff’s kid.” Gary said with remorse. “Well I guess we should get him in and then call it a night.” He said clapping his hands together before going over to the machine that held the casket up.

“Yeah. Let’s get him in and lay him to rest. Poor kid.”

As the two men worked, copper eyes watched in fearful confusion from the brush along the cemetery fences. A small, red wolf looked as they lowered an empty casket into the ground, wondering how it was that they didn’t think to even check it first. The little wolf felt it’s jowls curl back into a Cheshire grin before it took off into the trees. It didn’t know how it got there or where it came from. But there was the memory of a baby girl with red hair and a man with glowing blue eyes that stuck in it’s mind as it ran wild into the night.

* * *

It was October. Which marked that it had now been a year and a half since Stiles’ death.

It's been a year since Derek finally got back on track from the hell hole he’d fallen into. It’s been six months since he finally could sleep at night without waking up shaking and biting back screams. The past year he’s woken up to night terrors of Stiles dying in his arms and being ripped from his hands. He dealt with anxiety and random breakdowns that usually resulted in the Loft being torn to shreds and a crying Lydia walking into the room making grabby hands to which he cringed away from. Her eyes were so much like his, yet not like his at all. Her nose curved so uniquely like his, but with its own qualities.

Derek struggled with taking care of Lydia since his mate's death, even if they weren’t full mates. He had found out that Peter was going to leave with Frista for a while so he was helpless and felt so very alone. He knew that Peter hadn’t wanted to go, especially with what had happened shortly after Stiles’ passing.

Scott had tried to help him but he had only lashed out at that. He never let Scott get close to him now, he even shut him out of his mind. Derek repelled any small bond that they had and became a lone wolf by pure choice.

He didn’t want to be his pack anymore, especially when he realized how long it had taken him to accept the fact that he wanted Scott to be his pack. But he only really accepted it because Stiles was apart of Scott’s pack. Now that he was gone, so was that.

Derek was doing well the past six months though. He was finally getting sleep. The nightmares stopped, or got better anyway. He no longer felt the need to cling to Lydia as if his life depended on it when she was the one depending on him. He had taken the liberty as a parent to finally teach her how to walk and talk a little. After a while he even started to show the toddler pictures of her father.

He’d always get a little teary when showing her pictures of him but he would always point at Stiles and say ‘Da’ and wait for her to try and say it back. She never did though. She’d just giggle and smile at the picture, then him. All five of her teeth shining. That was probably the thing that killed him the most, the fact that she was passing so many milestones and yet, Stiles wasn’t here to watch those milestones go by. No, he was buried in the ground with four ribs bolted together to hold his chest up and little cuts glued together so they didn’t show. There were many other wounds that were hidden on the inside that Derek didn’t even want to think about.

He was sitting on the cold cement floor with Lydia in his lap, another picture—his favorite one—of him and Stiles on their first date. Stiles was making a duck face while Derek was fighting back a smile and holding the camera with red cheeks. He smiled as he remembered the day when Stiles had finally told him he loved him. It was awkward and scary but it was also the best day of his life, because he had gotten Stiles.

Lydia giggled at the picture before getting up and walking a few feet before falling onto her hands so she was crawling like an animal. Derek smiled at her before he crawled over to her and picked her up in his arms, swinging her around and blowing raspberries into her chubby stomach. She squealed and laughed loudly, her voice so young but so strong. Derek started laughing as well while he stood up with her in his arms. He decided that he wanted to take her outside for a while.

He went over to the loft door, grabbing Stiles’ red sweatshirt on the way and wrapped Lydia up in it before opening the door and walking out into the sunny weather. It would be gone soon, in a few months. It was just the beginning of October but this was California and it was exceptionally nice out today. He grabbed the sweatshirt because it was basically Lydia’s baby blanket now, since he wasn’t here to wear it anymore. He went down the stairs and out onto the cement by the edge of the trees. Setting Lydia on her feet he unwound the sweatshirt from her and laid it on the ground before laying down, facing Lydia to watch her play.

She was smart enough to not shove things in her mouth like a normal toddler which kind of set Derek on edge, but he was happy also because he had less to worry about then.

Lydia came over to him and sat on his hip making him smile. She bounced for a while, the sound of her diaper crinkling over and over, her hand in her mouth.

“What are you doing, Baby Girl?” Derek chuckled while sitting up.

His eyes narrowed when he realized that Lydia was doing it again. She would often stare off into nowhere, then she would either snap out of it or start screaming. It was concerning but there was nothing wrong with her, physically at least. This time she turned her head but didn’t look at him right away, she was still staring at something. Derek turned his gaze to the trees then and used his wolf eyes to scan the suddenly dark trees. His eyes caught a small heat signature and within seconds he was on his feet with Lydia wrapped protectively in his arms.

His eyes returned to normal to try to make out what was out there and he relaxed a little when he realized that it was just a little wolf.

 _‘Wolves don’t just appear here, Derek.’_ The wolf thought to himself.

His eyes sharpened their glare on the small creature. It was bigger than a coyote but smaller than a normal grey wolf. His breath caught in his throat when he realized it was a Red Wolf. It wasn’t a common creature, the Red Wolf or scientifically categorized, Canis Rufus. He peeked his head to the right just a smidge to try and see all of it as it moved fluidly through the trees.

Lydia suddenly sneezed, making the wolf’s head snap up. It’s reddish amber eyes were wide in surprise as it gazed at the two humans at the edge of the woods.

Derek fought back a smile when it cocked its head to the side in confusion. Lydia must’ve seen the wolf because she squealed loudly in amazement and started to wriggle in Derek’s strong arms. The dark haired man glanced down at her and tried to shush her but she wasn’t having it. She started to whine so he flashed his blue eyes at her, making her stop immediately. That was something he learned to use as a warning, it always worked. It was his version of the stern mom stare.

He turned his gaze back to the wolf and noticed it was much, much closer now and it made him jump a little. It looked genuinely curious of them and Derek fought with his protective instinct over Lydia and the amazement of the small yet large creature in front of him that stood just a few feet away. The little wolf took another step forward, its ears large and making it look adorable.

_“If I was bitten, do you think I’d turn out as a wolf? Like if the bite based itself on personality, what do you think I’d be?”_

Stiles words rebounded in his skull, making his eyes lose focus for a moment as the impact of the memory hit him. Derek never really had answered him, and only now did he finally know the answer to the teen’s question. The Red Wolf.

 _‘You would have been the Red Wolf, Stiles. Not too small nor too big. The perfect size, and the right color. Lean and scrawny just like you..’_ Derek thought with a wave of sadness.

The wolf was incredibly close now and it was staring at Lydia with an expression so strange. Derek felt that he should be on edge by the look but he felt safer, if that was possible. He felt his heartbeat slow down as the wolf stepped onto the cement with them, it’s ears laid back against its head. His tail was wagging a little bit which made Derek confused. The smaller wolf stopped about ten feet away from them before it sniffed the air curiously, it’s tail pausing in it’s movement.

Derek smirked when it backed up, it’s eyes wide and tail raising a bit. The beta flashed his eyes at the wolf and laughed as it made a small offended bark before taking off into the woods. Lydia was giggling too, high pitched sounds they were.

“Well, that was enough of an adventure for today wasn’t it Little Lyd? Nap time!” Derek made a happy face to which Lydia started laughing again, her laugh turning into a yawn half way through.

“Shhh, we’re almost inside, Baby.” Derek said while he climbed the stairs to the loft.

By the time they were inside, Lydia was already passed out. Derek scoffed as he felt some drool drop onto his shoulder. Leave it to little children to make a mess somehow. Derek almost welcomed the gesture, only because he had been missing so long. He had been in the ground for so long, suffocating and choking on dirt that was the equivalent to Stiles death. Just thinking about it made his chest hurt. It felt like he was having a heart attack but it wasn’t that at all. Just phantom pains from the young man being void of life. From his life. From hers..

He walked over to the kitchen. He looked out the window, scanning the trees far, far away from the loft. There were dark grey clouds rolling in from the south-east. Lydia would sleep heavily tonight. She always slept hard during storms, like they were her natural lullaby. He however would curl up in the bathroom, crying for it to stop, for the memories to stop. Thunder brought to many things back to the surface. Memories clawing and digging up through the mud and muck till they broke through the surface, like freshly opened wounds.

It killed him. His heart thudded against his ribcage in anticipation. Something caught his eye as he stared into the woods. A small streak of red. The wolf. It was far off into the distance now, running. It was heading towards his old family home. His heart tore just a little more in his chest. His hand came up to grab at his shirt, his eyes stinging followed by his nose, a sure sign that he was going to cry.

Derek felt his canines elongate in his mouth as he grit his teeth. He forced the tears away while the sky was being quickly consumed by the dark. The sun that had shown minutes ago was being eaten up by the cool, dark clouds coming in. Turning the warm air cold and biting at a slower pace, like his soul was.

His heart was like the sun in this moment. His happiness was being sucked from him, and his warm heart was being clouded and shrouded with darkness, just like the sun. Just before the clouds completely took over, one last ray shone through the dark. Like it was fighting just a little harder to stay alive. It was the Sun’s last hope, just like Lydia was his. He didn’t have Stiles anymore. But he had her. And she needed him to be there for her. Derek promised himself he’d never leave her alone ever again. Physically or emotionally, he wouldn’t leave her ever again.

“Everything is going to be okay.” He whispered to himself in the quiet loft.

* * *

“I swear Peter. I saw him.”

“What do you mean you saw him?” Peter growled lowly, his voice straining in his chest.

He and Frista were in a bar near Beacon Hills, but they didn’t dare return yet, especially if Frista was telling him the truth.

“I mean that I saw him. He was literally at that club we went to. His eyes were different though…” She said wearily.

“Different how?” Peter urged.

“They looked, tired. But furious too. But under that there was pain.. Now I’m just becoming sympathetic.”She said while scooting off the bar stool she was on.

“Well, we better start getting ready to go back.” Frista smiled curtly, taking Peter’s hand in her own.

“This is all a load of crap. There is no way you saw him. It was probably just some kid who looks like him. It’s physically impossible.”

“Is it though? I mean you saw him. All those bite-”

“No, we can’t just jump to conclusions.” Peter warned, his voice stern.

Frista rolled her eyes before walking out of the bar, Peter behind. He was truly mesmerized by her. She was one in a million that had caught his attention. Someone who he could rely on to have his back, and he her’s. He smiled back before following her out to the car.

Recently, they had just been moving. On the go, not settling in one place for very long, just long enough to try to evade themselves from the current situation at hand. They had checked in with Derek and Scott with phone calls, but hadn’t come back yet.

Frista had been playing very nice lately. She would give Peter surprise kisses in the morning and she would randomly cuddle into him at different points in the day. He wasn’t going to lie and say he didn't like the attention because he did.

But right now, he was honestly confused.

Frista looked angry…

Her hands were twitching from where they were on the steering wheel. She made it clear from the beginning of whatever it was they had, that she wanted the control. Peter gave it to her most of the time, but he too liked control, so he reigned her in from time to time. Right now he figured it would be best to keep his mouth shut in fear that the woman would flip her shit.

She made it a quick trip back to their hotel and an even quicker trip to their room. Frista was practically dragging Peter by the hand. He could smell the tension on her. He knew that she needed to release that tension before she blew up at a random stranger.

Peter was shocked when Frista paced the room to their shared hotel room.

“Is everything alright with you?” Peter asked quietly.

“Yeah, sorry I’m just really worked up over the club thing. I still think it was him. Even if you say it wasn’t I believe it was.” She said, looking Peter dead in the eyes.

“Well, we shouldn’t tell anyone in case it wasn’t him.” Peter said while coming up to Frista, taking her by the waist, making her stop.

“What are we doing Peter?” She whispered, eyes moving up to look at the tall wolf.

“What do you mean?” He asked, now confused.

“I mean that we’ve been moving around, having fun, and teasing each other like foxes. So, what are we?” Frista murmured.

Her eyes glanced down at Peter’s lips, and before he could answer she had a hand around the back of his neck and was pulling him down to her. His eyes shot open in surprise at the hunger in her. She opened her mouth and bit at his lips, making him give in.

He growled when her hands grabbed at his broad shoulders, running down his biceps and up around his triceps. They wandered back farther, down his strong back, sliding down till they reached his ass. He jumped a little when she gave a squeeze. Peter suddenly felt like their positions were supposed to be switched.

“What are you…?” He smiled in confusion before Frista walked him backward, towards the bed.

She pushed him down so he was sitting on the edge of the bed before taking a few steps away from him. Peter watched as the woman in front of him pulled her clothing from her curvy body. He felt his pants grow tight as his blood pumped south from the sight of Frista in her bra.

“Damn.” He stated when Frista unbuttoned her pants.

Peter had enough of that, he wanted to do that. He leaned forward and gripped Frista’s wide hips and pulled her into his lap.

“I get to take those off.” He whispered deeply into her ear.

“Okay. Now get this off.” She growled, tearing at his shirt.

“Yes Ma’am.” He chuckled while grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it off.

Frista moaned at the sight before her. Peter felt pride swell in his chest when she ran her hands over his strong chest and abdomen. She leaned in and kissed him harshly, her tongue pushing against his until she started to kiss his strong jawline. Her soft lips moved from there all the way down to his pecs. She giggled at the small yelp when she kissed his nipple.

“That tickles you!” Peter exclaimed, laughing at the break in their heat.

But Frista wouldn’t even let that die by rolling her hips down against him.

“Fuck, Frista.” Peter groaned.

He ran his hands up her waist, squeezing every now and then. He leaned in and licked a wet stripe up her neck before sucking a dark spot into the soft flesh. She sighed against him, her hands wrapping around his head as she began to roll her hips rhythmically. He growled against her neck, his hands wandering to the clasp of her bra. He tugged it open and pulled away long enough to pull it from her shoulders.

Peter reached up and cupped her breasts, hearing her moan from the contact. She growled at him when he leaned down to flick his tongue over her nipple. She shoved him away from herself and stood up on the bed, pulling her pants and underwear off in one go.

Peter growled in anger.

“You were taking too long and right now I just need you to fuck me to where I can’t remember good from bad.” She said before falling back on her knees in front him.

She was straddling him now, and she made quick work of opening his jeans. He helped her kick them off, and then she was straddling him in an entirely different way.

“I need to forget everything for a while. So make me forget everything, even my name. Make me only know your name, Peter.” She whispered.

That was the only thing Peter needed to hear as he fulfilled her wish. The thought that Stiles could still be alive made him nervous and as much as he didn’t want to believe it, if it was true he was truly scared how Derek would react once he found out. But now wasn’t the time to worry about what if’s and maybes. Right now he had a beautiful and stubborn woman who was looking to him to make her feel secure. And like hell he was gonna say no just to worry about something that probably wasn’t real.

“Anything for you, you beautiful crazy woman.” He muttered before ravaging her completely, breaking any barriers they had between them before.   


* * *

The old Hale House was in ruins, as it had been for years. Recently however it was home to one small little red wolf. A wolf who felt some semblance of familiarity and calm whenever he was in it. It smelled like dust and moldy wood, the scents of his pack long gone. But it was familiar. It was the closest thing the wolf had to home.

Wedging itself through the tight space of the red door, it crawled into the burnt remnants of decay. It trotted up to the couch it found there, the one Derek had brought in when he’d first come back to Beacon Hills after the fire. He jumped up onto the raggedy weathered cushions and curled up into a ball, nose buried in his tail.

If he tried hard enough the little wolf could just make out the scent of the man. It made an old longing hurt well up in him and before he knew it he was changing. Bones broke and realigned to their original state until a man laid on the couch gasping. It hurt every time. Every time he shifted it hurt, like it wasn’t natural, like the wolf inside him was fighting him. Telling him something was wrong, was missing. He rubbed his hands over his dry mole dappled skin with a scoff. He shouldn’t be feeling sad over something so stupid. It’s not like Derek ever needed anyone before, why would he need anyone now? He didn’t allow himself to think of a certain babe with red hair like fire and a gentle sloping nose like his, eyes like the youngest living Hale.

“Fuck.” Stiles groaned and rubbed the lingering pain from his arms and legs, ignoring the fact that he was just sitting on the shittiest couch of a shithole, naked and cold. He had to get clothes from somewhere, and he was not going to go around dressed in a button up shirt and slacks again.

Going to clubs in slacks was probably the worst attire ever. He just wanted to drink. To drink and forget everything that had happened. He was lost, confused and had no idea how he was here. Stiles didn’t know how he was a freaking werewolf but he could see the perks that everyone had bragged about. He found he liked it.

When Stiles had first woken up and found he was a wolf, he’d been sure his body would refuse the bite and that he’d die, that's why he never took the bite from Peter. But he’d been wrong. Somewhere along the line he’d gotten bitten and carried the venom inside him and he’d changed. Maybe it had been laying dormant until something severely fucked him to the brink of death, like a car crash in the woods in the middle of the night. He should be dead.

And yet, here he was. Alive. And all alone. Unable to return home. No. Not unable, scared to return home to his life. To his family. To his pack.

“What’s dead should stay fucking dead.” He whispered angrily to himself.

He had so much anger. And he didn’t know why. He was so fucking angry. Angry at that bastard wolf Krome. At night when Stiles was sleeping, he found himself dreaming of tearing the alpha to bits. He dreamt at least a hundred different ways he’d do it. However the dreams always changed. They always changed and he dreamt of pouty lips, black hair, black skin where a tattoo was inked in. And worse were the ones of a little girl with red hair and freckles on her cheeks. When he had those dreams he’d wake up in a cold sweat and feel such a sense of emptiness and longing it was like a void in his chest. He hadn’t had panic attacks since the nogitsune, but one particular dream of him fading away into a black abyss followed by a shrill scream sent him to his knees gasping.

The pain always tried to creep in. A voice in his head telling him to go to his mate. To see his daughter. To belong to his pack again. Every time that happened he wound up at the club.

“God, I need a drink.” Stiles grimaced, forcing the emotions he harbored down into his gut to deal with later. Right now he just wanted nothing more to get drunk and crash for a week straight.

He sighed before curling back up on the shitty couch in the shitty house and tried his hardest to fall into what would no doubt be an even shittier sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t actually know how long this will be. Not nearly as long as the first one that’s for sure. Please leave a comment if you have questions. Or just. To tell me if you liked it lol.


End file.
